


All I Want for Solstice

by MathClassWarfare



Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [18]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Holidays, Inspired by Art, M/M, Noctis Lucis Caelum Lives, Older Noctis Lucis Caelum, Older Prompto Argentum, Older Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, POV Noctis Lucis Caelum, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/pseuds/MathClassWarfare
Summary: ForKrovnyin theFFXV Secret Santaexchange! This is loosely inspired by yourcover artfor the older Promptis zine. I hope you enjoy this little slice of not!christmas with the Chocobros!
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1104645
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27
Collections: FFXV Secret Santa 2020





	All I Want for Solstice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reptiliya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptiliya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Beginning of Forever, Daybreak Edition cover art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/768876) by krovny. 



“Sorry, everybody, throne room’s closed Mondays,” Prompto calls out to the tourists clustered at the roped-off doors. Like most people, they’re powerless against his charms and lose their scowls as soon as they see him. It probably doesn’t hurt that he’s got a solstice wreath around his neck and a crate full of pine boughs in his arms.

While Noctis hides behind the box he’s carrying, Prompto gives them recommendations for nearby restaurants and shops. The tourists promise to come back tomorrow when it’s all decorated, then politely wander off.

Noctis sets down his load and quickly unlocks the door—before Prompto can decide to start giving tours of the Citadel. They’d promised Ignis that they would have this place all decked out by the time he finishes work, but they’re off to a late start. He holds the door open and snatches a kiss as Prompto passes through. Pine needles prickle his cheek, and it smells like Solstice.

Once they’re inside, Prompto pulls the wreath off his head. “All right!” he says. “Where should we hang these?”

Noctis looks around at all the grandeur of this room, sparkling with the sunlight streaming in through recently-repaired windows. Coming in here, his emotions are always a jumble of strangeness and familiarity. The throne itself looks like it always did, back when he would stand at the foot of the steps with his nanny, looking up in half-terrified awe at the King of Lucis who was also, somehow, his father. Now, nobody sits there. It’s surrounded on all sides with black velvet ropes, and an informational plaque lists all the kings who have graced the chair with their behinds. (Sometimes Noctis reads it, just for the satisfaction of seeing that it doesn’t mention Ardyn.) When his eyes settle on the crystal, he shudders. It’s dimmer without magic, no longer giving off its own light, but still alluring. It remains a mystery to Noctis, despite all he’s been through.

“Hey.” Prompto wraps an arm around him. “You okay?”

Nodding, Noctis leans into his touch.

After a few heartbeats, Prompto says, “I still hate it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “After it . . . took you. I wanted to bust it open, or—or crawl after you. Or something.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Gladio, too—he was about ready to kick that thing into a million pieces. Ignis talked us out of touching it though."

“Good. Who knows what would have happened?” Noctis turns to face him, sliding his hands to Prompto’s back. “I know there’s no fucking way _I’m_ ever touching that thing again. I want to stay right here.” 

With a small, heartbreaking gasp, Prompto leans in to kiss him. Noctis presses forward, reveling in the touch of his lips and the brush of his fingers. All that time they lost falls away as Noctis focuses on this moment—humming softly, caressing Prompto’s earlobe, and playing idly with his hair. He could get lost in his best friend all afternoon, and he’d like nothing better, but the simultaneous _ping_ of their phones pulls them back out.

“Damn,” Prompto mutters, wiping a thumb across his bottom lip as he checks the text from Ignis. “Guess we’d better get to it, huh?”

They manage to get all the wreaths and garlands hung up, then weave the pine boughs between the bars of the gallery railings before Gladio shows up with the tree. Ignis joins them soon after, with a huge tin of cookies from his department’s holiday exchange, and an electric kettle for Gladio to make hot toddies. 

Sipping on warm beverages and nibbling on cookies, they unpack a box of ornaments Ignis had dug out of storage. Noctis carefully unwraps a hand-painted snowman that has _‘Happy Solstice from the Amicitias 746,’_ scrawled across the back. “Ignis, do you remember this guy?” He places the ornament in his friend’s palm.

“Ah, yes,” Ignis says, looking it over with his hands. “I recall that Iris wasn’t too keen on giving him away.” 

“No,” Gladio laughs. “We had to let her open a present before dinner just to stop her crying.”

“What about you, Noct?” Prompto asks, balancing a cloth bird on a branch of the tree. “Did you wait patiently for your presents while everybody ate?” He grins, and Noctis is tempted to throw a wad of tissue paper at his face.

“No comment,” he says, unwrapping another ornament. Gladio chokes on his own laughter, while Ignis just smiles and sips his drink.

When they finish decorating the tree, Ignis suggests that they eat something other than cookies. They all head down the street for some sushi.

The restaurant where Noctis used to work back in high school never reopened, but there’s a new place he and Ignis have gone for lunch a few times. It’s owned by a chef who came over from Altissia after the Dawn, and the food is great.

When they step down into the garden-level restaurant, they’re hit with perfectly cheesy Solstice music and multi-colored lights strung up above the bar. The host immediately recognizes Ignis and leads them to a table in the back, where they can have some privacy.

As they’re studying the menu, Noctis can tell just by looking at Prompto that he’s doing calculations. He points at one of the novelty rolls that’s exactly the kind of thing Prompto would enjoy—spicy and full of weird ingredients. “Have you had one of these before?” 

“ _No_ , but . . .” Prompto chews his lip, obviously eyeing the price.

“Everyone, please order whatever you’d like,” Ignis interjects. “This is on me.”

“Isn’t it my turn?” asks Gladio.

“I insist—allow me to thank you all for your hard work today.”

“But it was fun!” Prompto leans across the table. “It didn’t feel like work. And you already gave us cookies.”

“Thanks, Specs,” Noctis says, squeezing Prompto’s knee under the table in a silent, _give it up, please_. They both know how much _The Meteor_ pays him, and Noctis has a serious craving for sashimi. 

After throwing an annoyed look back at Noctis, Prompto says, “ _Thank you_. It’s our turn next, though.”

They order a ton of food and end up with even more when the chef sends out several rolls and appetizers that aren’t even on the menu yet. It’s more than they can possibly eat, which is a convenient excuse for Noctis to ignore his complementary salad. 

The chef comes by the table to personally express her gratitude to Ignis for all he’s done to coordinate rebuilding in the Crown City. She insists that they stay as long as they like, so Ignis orders a bottle of sake for the table.

After a few more hours pass, Gladio’s almost single-handedly finished off the rest of the food and Prompto has them all singing along to Solstice songs. Noctis suspects that karaoke is next, which is fine with him. He’s happy as long as he gets to keep hanging out with his favorite people on Eos.

Slumping against Prompto, resting his head on his shoulder, Noctis traces his finger around the intricate cutouts of a paper snowflake on the wall. A sharp longing cuts through the warmth that’s been buoying him up all evening. If only Luna could be here, too, laughing and sharing a drink with them. If only his dad had lived to see how the people carry on without them—or magic or the crystal or the gods. What would he have thought? Or had he always known that this was the bright future he’d been fighting so hard for?

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto murmurs against the top of his head. “You ready?”

As Ignis and Gladio stand and step away to retrieve their jackets, Noctis turns to look at his best friend. Smiling softly, he reaches for Prompto’s hand and pulls it to his lips. “Yeah,” he says, brushing a gentle kiss across his knuckles. “I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my dear [moonwaif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwaif) for editing help! I recommend checking out her wonderful [Snow Over Insomnia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159798). It's been making me feel very festive.


End file.
